


Desert in Bloom

by an_aphorism



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Naked Cuddling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post War, Saccharine, hand holding, softe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25487086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_aphorism/pseuds/an_aphorism
Summary: It’s surprisingly dark when he opens his eyes, but Keith’s face right before his is like a dawning sun. He’s wide-eyed and messy-haired and looking far, far too awake.“Guess what!” Keith whispers, lips curling at the edges into a smile.“What?”“It’s about to rain.”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 218





	Desert in Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by @dattebayes, who wanted some domestic fluff.

Shiro wakes to a gentle hand sliding across his bicep and up to his shoulder. It’s soft, nice.

“Wake up starshine,” comes Keith’s low morning voice. Shiro smiles before he even opens his eyes.

“Mmm, morning.”

It’s surprisingly dark when he opens his eyes, but Keith’s face right before his is like a dawning sun. He’s wide-eyed and messy-haired and looking far, far too awake.

“Guess what!” Keith whispers, lips curling at the edges into a smile.

“What?”

“It’s about to rain.”

Keith leans in then, pressing a smooch to Shiro’s nose before he sits up. There’s a rustle from the blankets and then all of a sudden he’s up, standing beside the bed.

“C’mon, c’mon, don’t want to miss it.”

Shiro takes in the room, the lack of light indeed signaling a stormy morning. Then his gaze gravitates back to his boyfriend who is already at their dresser and pulling out a pair of pajama shorts. Shiro grins to himself. He knows he won’t be getting any more sleep with Keith like this.

Not that that’s a bad thing. Keith’s excitement is contagious, and Shiro welcomes any opportunity to witness it. The rain is a good opportunity. Keith _loves_ the rain. It comes so very rarely to the desert, and on the few occasions it came when they were at the Garrison together, Keith had always made a big deal about it. It had been a rare joy to witness.

This will be the first time it will have rained since they’ve settled down though. The first since they got this place away from the Garrison for just the two of them. The rain this time will be falling on their house, on their land. Just thinking that feels special.

Shiro pushes up and put of bed. Keith when he turns, offers Shiro a pair of shorts as well. Shiro bends and kisses Keith’s cheek.

He steps into the shorts although it’s hardly necessary. Their little place is so far out in the desert that there’s no chance of peeping neighbors. It had been Keith’s one request, and Shiro had been happy to grant it. Surely after all the cramped spaces of the Garrison and the lions, they deserved some space.

Out here it was just them and the wolf. Selfishly, that worked just fine for Shiro.

They go out the bedroom silently, passing the wolf spread out in the living room. Despite an exhaustive search, they hadn’t managed to find a dog bed big enough for Kosmo, so most of their living room floor is now just covered in old comforters and pillows. Eventually they’ll have to come up with a more practical solution for Kosmo’s sleeping, but for now he seems comfy enough. They have little furniture, fewer guests, so no one to judge the fact that they’ve in essence handed over their living room to an overgrown space wolf.

The move is still fresh. They’re just beginning to get used to the idea of _home_ , so most of the furnishing has gone into the bedroom. It’s enough for Shiro. Having Keith, here, is always enough.

Keith tugs him by the hand and they head for the backdoor. Kosmo perks up, but then sniffs the air and lays back down. Unlike Keith, he has a marked disinterest in anything water.

The back door opens to a small wood patio. Right now it’s only planks half worn through by the sun, but Keith has talked about eventually getting a grill, some chairs, maybe a hardy tree or two that could lend shade. _I’ve never had a barbeque before_ , Keith had said lying on the couch one day with Shiro, _but they look fun_.

Shiro remembers how his heart had clenched then with desperate desire. He’d wanted in that moment to give Keith everything. Everything he’d never had and more. The house was a good first step, but Shiro knows there’s so much more still to do. So much more that Keith deserves, and Shiro is determined to provide. 

Keith makes a sound of joy and they step out onto the wood. The air is heavy with storm, electric in a way Shiro can practically feel against his skin. The wind is whipping up sand, and it looks ominous with how dark the sky is for sunrise.

It doesn’t frighten Keith though. He laughs and hurries down the stairs barefoot into the sand. The wind hits him when he gets beyond the cover of the house, but Keith doesn’t seem to mind. He goes with it, spinning in circles, kicking up sand. His smile is wide and flashing white.

He’s stunning.

“Keith, shoes!” Shiro tries for practicality. His own bare feet are already risking splinter on the porch, never mind any of the numerous desert critters that could be hiding just beneath the shifting sands.

“Shoes are dumb, come on!” Keith dances out further into the wind. His hair is a riotous mess, and surely the sand must sting, but he doesn’t show it. “Can you feel it?” Keith shouts. “It’s about to happen!”

Despite his caution, Shiro’s knows he’s smiling. He also knows he’s not going to go back in for shoes. There’s nothing, really, that could get him to tear his eyes off Keith when he’s like this.

Keith spins back to facing Shiro, beckoning with his arm. He looks wild and alive, practically glowing with his own energy. Shiro doesn’t even blink, transfixed. There’s always been something star-touched about Keith even when they hadn’t known it was quite so literal. Shiro’s powerless against it.

Just as Keith opens his mouth to say something else, there’s an enormous rumble of thunder that shakes the air. The sky opens up.

There’s a cry of delight from Keith as he’s drenched in seconds. Shiro’s still under the small covering of the house, and so it spares him momentarily, but he can feel the weight of the rain, thick and heavy.

“Yes!” Keith shouts. He’s running in wobbly circles, arms held aloft, head tilted back to the rain.

He’s the most beautiful thing Shiro’s ever seen, and Shiro’s seen edges of universes, collapsing stars, and the abyss itself.

It all pales in comparison to Keith’s joy.

Before he realizes it, Shiro’s stepping out from the cover of the house. The water drenches him immediately, but he barely feels it. He’s enchanted by the sight of Keith, slowing now just to stand in the rain, eyes closed and head back.

Shiro walks, bewitched, down the stairs and straight toward Keith. He forgets the rain and the stinging sand and anything that might be living under it. He forgets everything else entirely. There’s just Keith.

And then he’s crossed the distance and is standing before the man. He reaches to tilt Keith’s head gently down. Keith blinks open wet eyes, eyelashes matted with rain. When he meets Shiro’s gaze, he smiles.

“There you are,” Keith says.

“Here I am,” Shiro says. Then he bends and kisses Keith. There’s nothing else for the impossible vice that Keith always puts on his heart.

The kiss is warm even against the desert morning. His lips are soft, welcoming, and Shiro lets himself fall into it. His hands cup Keith’s head so carefully, and he kisses him thoroughly. There’s the taste of their toothpaste, and the water of the rain. Shiro feels it then, soaking them both. It’s a little cold, but perfect with the heat of Keith’s mouth.

They kiss and kiss against the rumble of the thunder overhead. Water puddles around their feet, making the sand a sticky mess, but Shiro doesn’t care. Keith is electric in his hands, kissing with a relaxed kind of dedication that makes Shiro not want to bother with breathing.

Eventually though Keith makes that decision for him. They part, huffing for air. Shiro bends to touch his forehead against Keith’s. Keith’s hair hangs in dripping dark strands, some of it plastered against his cheeks. Shiro thumbs at it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro says, “I love you.”

Keith’s eyes flicker down, the way he does when Shiro’s compliments make him shy. “I love you too.”

Shiro leans back then to get a better look at Keith, but drops his hands to keep them wrapped about Keith’s waist. Keith looks glorious drenched, like some powerful god from the sea. He looks like he belongs out here with the whipping, wild storm. Those tempest purple eyes are unfathomable as a desert rain.

“Is the storm everything you hoped for?”

Keith leans back against the hold to face the sky again. “Mm, yes.”

Shiro just takes him in. The rain falls on Keith’s face but he doesn’t flinch or turn away. The corners of his mouth are tipped up in that way he does when he can’t contain his happiness. It’s been happening more and more since they moved out here.

It makes Shiro think of the future, of all the days and week and months and years they’ll have. Of all the rainstorms that will come to their little desert home. He wonders if every time it will be an event. If they’ll be forty and Keith will be tugging him out of bed to see the first rain fall of the season.

Shiro _wants_ it. He wants it with a sudden ferocity he doesn’t know how to hold inside him. He wants everything over and over and over again with Keith until it becomes commonplace. He doesn’t think he could live long enough to ever find Keith unremarkable, but he wants the well-worn tread of a home and life and love. He wants to be in their kitchen and see a storm coming in a ten years’ time and know by heart just how Keith will come bounding in to get him.

Shiro dreamed of a big life growing up, and he finds it startling to realize now just how lucky he got. Shiro had wanted the stars, but he never would have dreamed of just how lucky he’d get. That he’d get his own star.

They have a small house, a small family, but their life together is so, so big. They have this desert and they have the stars above whenever they want them.

And they have each other. That’s the biggest thing of all.

“Marry me,” Shiro blurts out suddenly. Keith’s head tilts back and his eyes shoot open. Shiro knows he must look equally surprised. They haven’t discussed this. “Or don’t,” Shiro’s mouth keeps going. “I don’t know how you feel about marriage. Just stay with me. Stay with me forever. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Keith’s hand comes up to Shiro’s cheek. “I don’t really care about marriage,” Keith says. “But yes. Of course. Forever. _Easy_.”

“Just like that?”

“It’s always been just like that,” Keith smiles. “Was that an actual proposal? Do you want to get married?”

“I—“ Shiro tries to think about it. He’s never really considered it. Never really cared much for the fuss of it if he’s honest. “It’s a proposal, but not a wedding. Just a forever.”

Keith nods like he understands completely. Of course he does. He always has understood Shiro perfectly.

Then Keith’s holding up his left hand, pinky out.

“Forever then.”

Shiro raises his left pinky. “Forever.”

They hook them and squeeze. Keith’s smile is dazzling.

“Are you going to carry me across the threshold then?” Keith says it half as a joke, but then Shiro is pulling away so he can properly sweep Keith up in a bridle carry.

“Hey!” Keith guffaws in laughter, his arms coiling automatically around Shiro’s neck. “That was a joke!”

“Finished with the rain husband?” Shiro says. It’s a delight then to watch how the word strikes Keith, a lovesick softness overtaking his features.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I think I am.”

“Good,” Shiro says, “then we have a marriage morning to complete.”

Keith laughs as Shiro carries him back toward the house. It’s a bit of a clumsy feat with the wet sand underfoot, but the buoyancy in his chest gets Shiro back onto the patio. He’s careful to angle Keith through the door.

“I’m afraid to ask what a marriage morning is— hey you can put me down now.”

“And get two sets of muddy footprints across the house? I don’t think so,” Shiro says.

Which is true enough. Shiro walks past Kosmo, who eyes them dubiously as mud and sand tracks in. Shiro beelines for their bathroom, and only then does he sit Keith down on the toilet seat.

“You’re ridiculous,” Keith says.

Shiro beams and reaches into the shower to turn the water on, making it extra hot how Keith likes.

“Practical.” Then he strips out of his drenched shorts and underwear. Keith eyes him in that idle appreciative way he always does. It never fails to make Shiro stand a little straighter, warm in his core. “Now c’mon.”

He steps into the spray and then waits as Keith shucks himself naked. It’s a tight fit, the shower not made for two people, but that’s okay. That can be part of the house renovation when they get that far.

For now Shiro turns Keith into the spray, but facing him so as to not get water in his eyes. Keith immediately tilts his head back like he had in the rain, letting the warm water wash over him. Shiro grabs the bar of soap and starts up a lather.

It’s not the first time they’ve done this, so Keith doesn’t startle when Shiro takes the soap to his chest. Instead his shoulders drop further, relaxing into it. It makes Shiro smile stupidly. Of course they’ve had plenty of sexier shower times, but there’s something special about this too. It’s intimate being here with Keith, soft and naked and not having to do anything about it. There’s a trust, a baring of oneself without pretense.

Shiro tries his best not to take it for granted. He’s never been more grateful that his new post-war arm doesn’t require detaching for something like a shower. It’s solid, watertight end to end, with all the amazing Galra technology of the last two. It means that when he touches Keith, there’s all the sensation in it, but none of the fear his last ones came with.

He runs the hand then across Keith’s skin, cleansing and massaging. Keith sighs, keeping his eyes closed, and lets Shiro. Shiro takes his time, working soap across Keith’s chest, thighs, back. He does his shoulders, down to his hands. Spends extra time twining his soapy hands with Keith’s just to touch them, just to appreciate his strong, graceful hands.

Then Shiro switches the soap out for shampoo.

Keith’s hair is one of Shiro’s favorite things. Keith’s been letting it grow out for a while now, and it’s silky soft and able to be braided now. Sometimes Keith will come home after work and wisps of it will have escaped the braid to frame his face. Every time it makes Shiro catch his breath. He loves too then when they’re in bed and Keith undoes his hair. It falls in these soft waves that Shiro is certain no other person has ever seen. Shiro will drink him in then as Keith idly scrolls through his datapad or flicks through channels on the holoscreen. Dressed down he’s always so lovely it aches in Shiro’s whole body.

So he takes a lot of care in washing Keith’s hair now. His fingers scrub through, generously sudsing. Keith’s hair is inky and heavy when wet, and Shiro loves the texture. He’s certain there’s something alien about it, just a little. Sometimes, when the light hits it right, he could swear it has a purple sheen. It’s lovely.

Shiro finishes the shampooing with the back of Keith’s neck, doing more massaging there than washing. Still, Keith leaves his head in Shiro’s hands, allowing him to tilt him back to rinse without getting anything in Keith’s eyes. When the conditioner goes in, Shiro goes back through carefully de-tangling what the desert winds have done. Keith only hums low beneath the sound of the spray, and leans his head more into Shiro’s hands.

There’s no rush, as he pulls the tangles apart. It’s easy with how slick the conditioner makes his hair. After a few minutes of gentle work, Shiro can run his hand through Keith’s hair cleanly. It’s then that Keith’s eyes flutter back open.

“Now you,” he says.

Shiro goes easily, switching places with Keith to stand under the water. Some of the heat has worn away with the time he spent washing Keith, and it’s perfect when it hits him. He relaxes into it.

Keith does much of the same with him, a careful washing, then a much shorter turn with shampoo and conditioner. Shiro keeps his eyes closed and just soaks it all in.

“Would it be weird to say I forget how handsome you are sometimes?” Keith says as the last of the conditioner washes away. His hands are still scratching across Shiro’s skin, so Shiro doesn’t bother to move or open his eyes. If Keith is looking at him, Shiro wants to give him that, it’s only fair.

“Hm?”

“I know you are. But then sometimes I look, like really look.” One hand moves around to trace Shiro’s jaw. “And it’s not the features. Or it is but it isn’t. It’s the way you use them.” The fingers move up to Shiro’s mouth. “The lines here when you smile. The way your eyes crinkle,” The way he says it is slow, almost wandering. “Your shoulders go up and down when there’s something you’re excited about… I don’t know. The way you are, the way you move. I feel like I could just watch you forever sometimes and that would be enough…”

Shiro opens his eyes. Keith’s looking at him with a striking tenderness.

“I feel the same way,” he says. Shiro curls a hand against Keith’s cheek, thumbing over the scar there. “I could watch you in the rain for a thousand years and never be less than utterly riveted.”

Keith’s mouth wobbles then. Shiro leans down and kisses him softly.

“Ready for the marriage morning now?”

Keith blinks at him, a little misty-eyed. Instead of the clever comment he just nods.

Shiro turns off the water and then gets them both towels to dry off. He takes Keith’s hand and leads him back into the bedroom and into bed. Keith comes easily, sliding beneath the comforter after Shiro. The light is still dim from the storm going on outside. The rain is a soothing white noise around them.

Keith shifts to push his damp hair up to drip into the pillow. Shiro takes a hand to it, carefully raking the locks into better order.

“What’s a marriage morning?” Keith eventually asks.

Shiro’s fingers move down, around the shell of Keith’s ear. He traces the man’s jaw, then in to the delicate curve of his lips.

“Just this.” Shiro’s other arm curls around Keith to pull him in closer. When he comes, Shiro slides a thigh between Keith’s, letting all their dry, warm skin press together. There’s heat gathering between them, but it’s not the sex kind. That’s not what Shiro is interested in right now. The shower has cast a heavier feeling over them, something calm and carefully spun. Shiro doesn’t want to disturb it.

He leans in to kiss Keith, but keeps it soft. Their lips barely brush, and Shiro feels the puff of breath from Keith. Shiro bumps his nose against Keith’s, half a nuzzle.

When their lips meet again it’s just a little more. Keith’s lips part and Shiro nibbles at the lower, just feeling the sensation of Keith so close. There’s a small sound, then Keith’s hand is around his neck pulling him in for more.

“Just this,” Shiro says again pulling back. Keith’s eyes flutter open to look at him inquisitively. Shiro kisses his cheek, right over the scar, then the corner of his mouth in response. When he meets Keith’s lips again, it’s that same half-brush, half-kiss.

With Keith so close he feels the man take a deep breath and then let it out. Shiro rubs his hand up and down Keith’s back, soothing. On the next kiss Keith seems to get it. The next move is curious, the touch of his mouth on Shiro’s. Exploratory.

They go back and forth like that, touching lips and noses. Shiro’s hand doesn’t stop it’s slow transgress across Keith’s back, and Keith’s in turn stays on the back of Shiro’s neck, scratching lazily near his hairline.

It feels good, so good. The sensations are soft waves, never building, but keeping the warmth all the same. It’s tendrils of pleasure as they share kisses back and forth, but without beginning or end. It doesn’t wax or wane, instead the time just flows around them like a smooth stone in a river.

Eventually Shiro can’t help but lick across Keith’s lips. He keeps that slow too, sighs into it when Keith presses further against his body.

Shiro’s hand wanders down then to Keith’s hip. He feels the smooth skin, marred only by hard-fought scars. Each one he encounters, he spends time lingering on. He knows that Keith doesn’t mind them, he doesn’t have the same kind of negative connotations with scars that Shiro has. Shiro loves that about him, that he wears them so boldly.

As he should. There’s nothing about Keith that Shiro doesn’t find beautiful.

He palms Keith’s thigh, feeling the coarse hair, almost petting it as he goes along.

Keith lets out a little sound. “Ticklish,” he says against Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro lets his caress take on weight then, a firmer, heavier touch as he slides back up and over the swell of Keith’s ass. Keith’s hand moves down to Shiro’s own shoulder, copying the way Shiro is touching him.

Shiro works his way up Keith’s back, down one arm and then back, up into his still wet hair. All the while they stay close, brushing lips or just breathing each other’s space.

It’s lulling, and before long Keith’s wandering hand is growing slow, sluggish. His eyes have long fluttered closed. Shiro touches the side of his face, the scar there. He measures Keith’s breaths as they get slower and slower. He watches as his love slowly slips into sleep.

Then there’s nothing but Keith’s soft breaths, and the patter of the rain outside.

Shiro’s not the type to be able to fall back asleep once he’s been up, but he doesn’t mind it for once. It’s nice to be here, to watch Keith sleep. Keith doesn’t trust easy, so it’s always an honor when he lets his guard down like this. It’s not new, at least around Shiro, but Shiro doesn’t ever want to take that for granted. Nothing about Keith should be taken for granted.

Shiro lets himself drift in the ensuing silence. He tries to hold the moment and press it into his memory. Keith is relaxed and warm in his arms, the rain continues to fall.

It’s a perfect morning. A perfect morning in a string of perfect mornings if Shiro is honest with himself. Even on the hectic ones where they’re rushing out the door to get to the Garrison, Shiro still starts it by waking up next to Keith. He still starts it with violet eyes and the curling, shy smile Keith has when he wakes up and sees Shiro. As if he can’t believe Shiro is here. As if it’s _Keith_ who’s the lucky one.

Shiro knows the truth though. He’s lucky, so lucky to have Keith as his husband.

_Husband_.

It was too easy to say earlier. The word fit perfectly on his tongue. Even just the thought of saying it again thrills Shiro.

Maybe it’s expected of them to have some sort of big fancy to-do, but lying here with Keith, Shiro knows he did the right thing. The only thing that matters between them is the _forever_.

He leans in and presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead.

The man shifts in his sleep, and Shiro curses himself for possibly waking him, but—

But no. Keith tosses and turns a lot in his sleep, and it’s just that. Keith rolls over, and Shiro takes the opportunity to gather him up. Keith never manages the words, but Shiro knows he likes to be the little spoon.

Sure enough, tucked into Shiro’s chest, Keith sighs and settles back into sleep. It feels good like this, skin to skin. Nothing between them. Keith is soft and warm and perfect against him. Shiro hides a ridiculous smile in Keith’s hair, feeling so absolutely lucky.

_Husband_.

The storm outside rains down on their little house, and Shiro lets the feeling of it fill him up. Keith’s cozy in his arms, snoozing away. There’s no place to be today, nothing that needs tending to. Shiro’s grateful it was today of all days that the rain decided to come.

Minutes pass that way. Shiro feels the rhythm of Keith’s breathing, feels the growing dampness across the pillow from his drying hair. Maybe when Keith wakes up proper he will let Shiro braid it for him. Then later, much later, when they get back into bed for the night Shiro will take out the braid himself and kiss Keith with all the heat that their wedding night deserves.

For now it’s just this. Just this perfect spun moment.

It lasts for a long time, until there’s a change in Keith’s breathing.

“Mmm?” Comes a sleepy sound.

Shiro squeezes him, tilting his head to drop a kiss on Keith’s bare shoulder.

“Morning sweetheart.”

Keith moves his arms, so Shiro loosens his hold. Instead of moving out of the embrace though, Keith only gets Shiro’s hands and twines their fingers together.

“Morning. Sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t be.” Shiro kisses his throat then. The hands in his squeeze.

“Still raining,” Keith says.

“Still raining.”

Keith’s thumb rubs against Shiro’s. “Means we don’t have to get up yet, right?”

“Not on marriage morning. You get as much bed lazing as you like.”

Keith pulls their joined hands up to his mouth and kisses Shiro’s left hand, right over where a marriage band would reside.

“Good.”

There’s a bit of silence then. They listen to the rain falling, and occasionally Keith shifts just to get Shiro to cuddle him a little tighter. Shiro nuzzles at Keith’s shoulder, dropping lazy kisses there.

“You’re my husband,” Keith says softly after a long while. Hearing the word out of Keith’s mouth make’s Shiro’s heart skip.

“Yeah.”

“Forever.”

“Forever.”

Their hands unclasp then so Keith can turn around in his arms. His eyes when they meet Shiro’s are glossy. “Good,” he says with a quivering smile.

Shiro has no choice then but to gather Keith in, hugging him tight. They stay like that a long time, tiny shivers running through both of them from half-swallowed sobs, and too tearful eyes. It’s effervescent, overflowing. The love feels thick in Shiro’s throat, and he doesn’t try to fight it. All his life he’s only wanted to be here. To have gotten to the other side of pain and suffering and effort. To have touched the stars and found them not to be cold, distant things, but something alive. Something loving.

Strange to know how desperately Shiro had sought the stars, only to collide with a boy, a man, literally of the stars.

It feels fated in a way he can’t put words to. Keith in his arms is like the culmination of everything he’s ever done, everything he’s ever wanted.

So how lucky he is now. How truly, utterly, _lucky_.

“I love you,” he says against Keith’s hair.

“I love you,” Keith says. Then, “it’s stopped raining.”

And sure enough, when Shiro pulls his head back he notices the lack of sound. It’s maybe a sign to get up, or at the very least figure out breakfast for them. His hand slides up to Keith’s damp hair.

“Can I braid your hair?” he asks.

Keith looks at him then questioningly, but then he just smiles. It’s gorgeous, like a desert in bloom.

“Okay husband.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @dattebayes for the request, I adored writing this if you couldn't tell. 
> 
> I'm @an_aphorism on twitter, where mostly I post explicit content, but sometimes also softe.


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